Organised Confusion
by GreenFireDancing
Summary: With Lord Voldemort and his loyal followers closing in on every side, what happens when the only place that Lily Evans can run is into the arms of someone she hates? Prologue up.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_**A/N:**_**The prologue is set at the end of their sixth year, when James receives a particularly nasty detention from Filch and is forced to go down to the dungeons, where he finds Lily waiting for him. Don't worry, she doesn't kill him or anything. That would mean no story! But she's not pleased. And now I won't spoil anything else; promise.  
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**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not rich enough to be J. K . Rowling.  
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_**Prologue**_

_"You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul."_

_-Julie de Lespinasse_

"I trusted you." His blood ran cold. He knew that voice like he knew the back of his hand. But why was its owner here? And why was it so icy, hard, devoid of any emotion? "I trusted you. Merlin I was so stupid." She turned towards him, the flickering candlelight distorting her features slightly in the dim room. "You lied."

"Lily," he whispered, edging closer to her shaking frame. The pain in her eyes was clearly visible, although the rest of her face was a carefully concealed mask. But she had never been able to hide her emotions from him; her eyes always gave her away. He watched her carefully as she stared off into the distance, deliberately ignoring him. Faint irritation welled up inside of him, but he knew that this was a waiting game and he wasn't going to crack.

"I honestly thought you had changed."

"I have! I promise."

She turned to stare incredulously at him. "You _promise_? It's a little late for promises. You used me, James Potter, and don't you dare promise me things that won't come true." Her voice had grown steadily louder, until she was screaming the words at him.

"Why do you even care?" he yelled as he gave in to temptation and the ball of anger in the pit of his stomach exploded. "It's not like we were together; not like there was anything going on between us. We were just two people trying to get along and obviously it didn't work!" Shit. He hadn't meant to say that, but Merlin, no one could rile him up like Lily Evans. The hurt look that flashed across her features was quickly transformed into a disgusted sneer.

"Lily I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"I wonder whose fault that was," she cut across sarcastically. "You make me sick, Potter, parading round as if you own the place, treating girls like disposable objects that can be thrown away whenever you feel like it." In her rage she had moved closer to him, until they were only inches apart. Some small, irrelevant part of his brain registered that even in anger, she was absolutely beautiful. He decided to keep that little bit of information to himself, however, in case she hexed him. His lapse in attention had gone entirely unnoticed by the witch, who had worked herself up into such a state of fury that she was barely coherent.

"I can't believe I was so naive as to actually think that _the _James Potter had grown up and stopped acting like a mindless idiot. And now I look like a stupid little fool because your head is stuck so far up your own backside that you think you can do whatever you want, no strings attached." She laughed mirthlessly. "Merlin forbid James Potter should actually have feelings."

Rage clouded his vision as she brushed past him, evidently assuming that because she had said her piece they were done. But he wasn't finished with her yet. Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist, whirling her round to face him.

"Don't touch me, Potter," she snarled, and he winced at the venom in her voice. He had forgotten what it was like when the full force of her fury was unleashed on him.

"Who do you think you are, Evans?" he demanded fiercely, his hazel eyes flashing. "Don't tell me you're so perfect that my actions are completely ungrateful? You act like you're some angel who can do no wrong, and the rest of us aren't good enough to kiss your bloody feet, because we've made a few mistakes. You refuse to see how selfish and cowardly you are, and to be honest, I'm finding it hard to see why you were put in Gryffindor." His last words were spoken with a deliberate slowness that pierced her like millions of deadly knives.

As much as she hated to admit it, his words had gotten to her, and self doubts that usually hid in the darkest recesses of her mind came creeping to the front. She hated him with an intensity and a passion that she had never thought herself capable of. And so she did the only thing she could think to do: she tore out his heart and shredded it into millions of tiny pieces.

"I hate you," she choked out vehemently, tears of fury and pain intermingling as they cascaded down her cheeks in gushing waterfalls and dripped off the end of her freckled nose. "I hate you so much. You made my life hell for years, James Potter, and just when you had me convinced that you were a decent person, I discovered who you really are. A part of me still refuses to believe the truth, is still determined to believe that you're not a complete bastard; and it's killing me because I know it was all a lie. So you have no right to tell me that my life is perfect when I know far too well that it's anything but." She trailed off, breathing heavily, and he took the opportunity to speak. All of his anger seemed to have disappeared, leaving him with an empty, hollow feeling inside.

"I never meant to hurt you," he whispered brokenly, as she attempted to leave for the second time that night. This time, he made no move to stop her. "I loved you, you know." She paused at that, turning away so that her face was hidden from him.

"For all I know, that could just be part of another bet."


	2. Chapter 2: A Letter Arrives

**A/N: So, this be chapter one. I hope you guys like. Please let me know if you find it too tedious or boring! And would it be too much to ask for a little tiny review? Please? :)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I own nothing except the fluffy pink journal. Seriously, I have one of those. **

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Chapter One: A Letter Arrives

As the sun sank steadily lower in the sky, its gleaming rays shone through the upper windows of 15 Ledon Lane, casting a fading glow onto the handsome mahogany desk that took up almost the entirety of one wall. A soft beam of light seemed to purposely land on a faded photograph haphazardly taped to the wall above the desk. The girl in the picture was laughing delightedly, the sunlight catching her red hair and setting it on fire, and her emerald eyes sparkling. The two adults on either side of the laughing girl looked rather amused at her antics, and the picture had captured them in the act of grinning slyly at one another over the top of her head. But there was one thing about this picture that made it different from all the others scattered around the room. This picture _moved_. A slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees and the people waved cheerfully. At that moment in time, the young girl appeared to be peering eagerly out at the room that housed the strange picture.

Time had altered the little bedroom greatly changing the colour from neutral cream to baby pink to its current shade of deep purple. Various perfumes and pieces of jewellery were spread messily over the surface of a wooden chest of drawers, and a pair of gold flats poked cheekily out of the matching wardrobe. It would have been almost impossible to tell that this very room lay empty for long periods of time; if not for the large leather trunk that sat at the foot of the bed and the faint trace of abandonment that still lingered in the air. The quiet peace of the room was disturbed as someone came barrelling through the open door, shutting it noisily behind her and breathing heavily as a mischievous grin spread across her features.

The red-head had grown up in the years since the picture had been taken, but her brilliant green eyes still twinkled with the same enthusiasm. Her slim nose had lengthened slightly, and acquired a light spattering of freckles that drove her insane. At seventeen, Lily Evans could easily be described as the 'breathtaking damsel in distress' one reads about so frequently in fairytales. The only difference was that this damsel was fiercely independent, and would most likely hex anyone who decided that she needed 'rescuing'.

"Give it back! Give it back now, you freak!" The high pitched shriek pierced Lily's eardrums, making her wince. "Give it back, Lily, or I'll never speak to you again!" She snorted; Petunia hardly spoke to her as it was, she doubted she would notice the silence.

"Sorry, Tuney", she teased, reverting to her childhood nickname for her sister, "but this is too good an opportunity to miss!" Another grin escaped her as a scream of frustration came from the other side of the door. Her attention turned to the fluffy pink journal in her hands. Opening it, she began to read in a high falsetto voice, ignoring her sisters frantic protests.

"_Dear Diary, today Vernon took me out in his brand new car, the darling. He's doing absolutely marvellous at work and he thinks he is close to getting a promotion! We went out to dinner to celebrate, and on the way home I saw Tracey Brewton give me a most envious look. She's horribly jealous because _her_ fiancé works at the factory down the road –minimum wage, of course – and he just can't afford the luxuries my Vernon can. Poor girl. Oh it was so romantic when he kissed me goodnight! Soon I will be a married woman! Of course, then The Freak had to come outside and ruin everything. Why can't I have a normal sister? One who doesn't –" _Lily sighed as she closed the book on what was sure to be an entry devoted to Petunia's second favourite hobby: Lily-bashing. Only the thrill of thrusting her long nose where it wasn't wanted could top a good old session of thoroughly moaning about her sister. Pulling open the door, Lily faced her sister, who looked ready to explode.

Petunia Evans was not one of those people who could take a joke or deal with something extraordinary. Even after almost seven years, she had still failed to grasp the concept that Lily Evans was a witch. She lived in her own little bubble that centralized around one person; and that person was herself.

"Give me that, you little weirdo," she hissed, snatching the book from Lily's hands and flouncing across the hall, into her bedroom. The 'weirdo' in question rolled her eyes. She loved her sister, really, she did, but it hurt to be constantly rejected by someone who should always be there for you.

A light tapping on the window distracted her from unpleasant thoughts and she opened it, allowing a large dappled grey owl to swoop gracefully through and land on her bed. Guess Hagrid had replied to her letter faster than she had thought.

"Athena!" she exclaimed, reaching out to stroke the bird's glossy feathers. The bird nipped at her finger affectionately, before holding her leg out, waiting for Lily to take the large cream envelope that was currently attached to it. A short note in Hagrid's messy slant was stuck to the front.

_Congratulations Lily! I knew ye could do it! -H_

Confused, (what had she done?) she slit the envelope open with trembling fingers and began to absentmindedly scan the unravelled pieces of parchment. Her eyes suddenly froze on the page; two little words jumping out at her as all the others blurred into insignificance. _Head Girl_. She couldn't believe it. Her entire academic career had been leading up to this point. Finally all the hard work and attempts to prove herself had paid off. As if in a dream, she slowly tipped the envelope upside down and felt a smooth metal badge drop lightly onto her outstretched palm. Hardly daring to look, she glanced warily down at the cold little object that held so much power. A flash of red caught her gaze and held it. Sure enough, the words 'Head Girl' were emblazoned in gold on a small badge, proudly standing out against the red as roses background. Gryffindor colours. A delighted squeal escaped her lips as reality finally caught up with her, and for once she allowed herself to let go of any inhibitions, dancing around her room with her recently acquired badge pinned carefully to her pyjama top.

A thought occurred to her that almost made her topple of the bed she had been using as a stage. There would be a Head Boy. Who she would have to share the Head's Dorms with. Merlin she hoped it wasn't Se-Snape. Even the very idea of spending an entire year with her greasy haired former best friend trailing dejectedly behind her made the girl shudder with revulsion. Imagine accidentally running into him in the morning on the way to the bathroom! Horror struck – she would _not _think about all the grease that would inevitably clog up the shower – she turned her thoughts to one of the other possible candidates. She honestly wouldn't mind if it was Remus. They had been prefects together, and were friends, after all, even if she couldn't stand the two idiots he and Peter hung about with. Quickly, she searched about her room for a distraction. She had come dangerously close to dwelling on _him. _All of a sudden her happy mood deflated and she gathered up the contents of the letter with a tiredness that hadn't been there only moments ago. She would need to go to Diagon Alley next week, she decided as she closed the door shut behind her. Maybe she would find out there who would be her partner in crime for her last year at Hogwarts.

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Chocolate brown eyes bored into vivid blue as the two boys hovering fifty feet in the air stared unwaveringly at one another, each silently praying to all four founders that the other would blink first, determined to win. Time ticked on; the wind began to pick up, blowing fiercely in the wide open space. A beam of sunlight fought for dominance over the dull grey clouds, shining directly into the face of James Potter. He blinked instinctively, and then swore as his companion erupted into gales of laughter.

"That doesn't count, Padfoot," he growled. "The bloody sun was trying to blind me!" Grumbling, he descended towards the two figures that resembled large dots in the perfectly trimmed grass of the pitch. Not that they ever used it, he thought to himself. He preferred a sport that involved flying and two metal balls of death to those silly muggle games of 'footfall' he had heard people talking about. Only one ball and they didn't even leave the ground!

"Looks like Sirius beat you again!" called out a sandy haired boy, amusement replacing the cautious expression he always wore. Remus Lupin was the mastermind of the famous foursome known as the Marauders. While the two ringleaders could also be considered extraordinarily gifted, both in intellect and magical ability, they preferred to focus their attention on more important things than an education; mainly Quidditch, girls, and pranking the Slytherins. That didn't mean, however, that they didn't achieve among the highest marks in their year; something that infuriated a certain red head to no end.

"Shut up, Moony," muttered a decidedly grumpy James as he and Sirius slid off their brooms simultaneously. Sirius was still grinning like a madman as he walked over to an ornate wooden chest and retrieved a large red leather ball. The quaffle. The reason for the all-important staring contest.

"Right, so it's me and Wormtail against you and Prongs, Moony," he said with enthusiasm, throwing the heavy ball into the air before catching it deftly with one hand. "Remember: no cheating." At this he looked pointedly towards Peter Pettigrew, a short blonde boy who was known as the fourth and final Marauder. While many questioned his position in the elite group, he was useful for spying and keeping watch, as he had an uncanny ability to blend into the background when he felt like it. He trailed after the other three, generally unnoticed in the wake of their brilliance, just grateful to be a part of the group. He smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders and saying, "I didn't know that putting a bludger through the hoops didn't count as a goal."

James looked at his friend with a mixture of pity and horrified fascination before replying, "I am ashamed, Wormtail. I would have thought that even you could understand the basics of Quidditch, especially seeing as your best friend is such a talented player."

"Prongs, I'm touched. Really, I am, but could you please stop obsessing over me? It's starting to get a little creepy," came Sirius' gravelly bark from the center of the pitch. When your animagus form was a dog, your ears tended to be a lot more sensitive than normal. Peter giggled nervously, glancing between James and Sirius as if unsure who to side with. Before he could make up his mind, a loud screech caused all four boys to jump and glance upwards. Three identical tawny owls and one owl as black as night flew in a straight line towards them.

"Hello, Acharné." James held out his arm for the beautiful owl to land upon, gently ruffling her soft feathers. He had picked up a few words of French from Sirius over the years, and the name suited the foreboding owl perfectly. The bird hooted a greeting as James undid the string tying the letter to the owl's leg. Once free, he took off, spreading his wings and soaring over the top of the Potter mansion. James would bet ten galleons that his father was waiting somewhere on the other side with a handful of owl treats. The man loved the fierce creature almost as much as James did.

Bringing himself back to the present, he saw that the others had also retrieved their letters and were ripping them open before perusing them with an eagerness that surprised James. Then realisation hit. This would be the last Hogwart's letter they would ever receive. Carefully, he slit the envelope open before shaking the contents out onto his palm. Unprepared for the weight, the shiny object slipped through his fingers and landed with a dull thud amongst the short blades of grass. What the hell was it? He already had his Captain's badge, so why were they sending him another one? Unless they weren't. His eyes widened and he picked up the little red and gold badge, staring at it as one might stare at a bomb or a large three headed dog.

"It's not going to explode, you know," said a soft voice, and James looked up to see a small, proud smile on his friends face.

"Blimey, Moony," he muttered, an expression of dazed wonder on his face as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair. "Dumbledore's really and truly lost it. I mean, sure, he's done some insane things before, but this tops it all. I can't be Head Boy! It should have been you."

"Actually, I agree with Dumbledore. You're a leader, Prongs; people look up to you. I couldn't even keep you three in line when I was a prefect," said his friend with a wry grin. "You'll be a great Head Boy." James looked gratefully at his friend, who didn't appear even the smallest bit jealous or disappointed.

"Thanks, Remus."

"Anytime." The comfortable silence was broken as Sirius came walking up.

"Oi, what are you two love birds whispering about?" His gaze rested on the gleaming badge in James's hand and he froze for a second before turning to Remus. "Congratulations, mate, I suppose. You're bringing shame to the Marauder name and tradition of rule-breaking, but I can't say I'm surprised. At least it wasn't that git Snivellus."

"The badge isn't mine, Sirius," Remus stated, faint amusement visible in his grey eyes.

"Then who...?"

"Mine." Sirius stared uncomprehendingly at his brother for a moment before succumbing to laughter so hysterical it brought him to his knees. Tears of mirth streamed down his face and he struggled for breath as he continued with his barking laughter. After some minutes, James began to grow impatient.

"For Merlin's sake, Padfoot, it's not that funny!"

"B-but you, James Potter, H-head Boy. Someone obviously put something in Dumbledore's morning pumpkin juice." As Sirius began to regain control of himself, he caught another glimpse of the little object lying innocently in James palm and, needless to say, did not stop laughing for a further five minutes. His mirth changed to pain, however, when James threw the quaffle at him. Being a chaser, his aim was extremely accurate, and the ball landed with a satisfying _thunk _on the target's head.

"Bloody hell, Prongs!" The messy haired boy grinned triumphantly.

"Nobody laughs at me and gets away with it, Pads, you should know that by now."

"Dorea will be so proud of her little Jamesie!" teased Sirius, an evil grin on his face as he clasped his hands together in mock adoration. A pale pink tinged the cheeks of the only heir to the Potter fortune and he mumbled a half-hearted 'shut up' before sending a pleading glance towards Remus.

"So, who do you think got Head Girl?" interjected the more tactful Marauder. James groaned. He had forgotten he would have to share the luxury of privacy and an en-suite bathroom with someone else. He sincerely hoped she would be a bit of fun.

"Probably Evans; she was a prefect after all, and the teachers worship the bloody ground she walks on," spat Sirius. He did not get on well with Lily Evans. James winced at the name; unpleasant memories that he had managed to bury springing to the front of his mind. He had been so stupid. But she had done something even more unforgivable. She had broken his hear, shattered it into millions of tiny pieces, and walked away without a backwards glance.

"No!" he almost yelled. "No. If it's Evans, I'm giving up my badge." Peter stared at him in disbelief, and Sirius' face grew pained.

"James –"

"I don't care. I can't do it if it's her, Sirius. I can't. Any other girl and I'll be fine so long as they're not a total prude. But not her." He pushed past his best friend and trudged forlornly towards the large mansion. His letter lay on the ground, forgotten, the late evening dew dampening the edges.

"Let him be," sighed Remus as Sirius attempted to follow the messy black haired boy. "He'll come around eventually."

"She really messed him up, Moony."

"I know."

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**So...soooooo...you like? Please please please tell me what you think! Or if you have any questions feel free to ask! Chapter two shall be put up soon! :) **


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